Flawed and Perfect
by SupernaturalFanPerson
Summary: Sam enters high school and is picked on, but with the help of a new friend he finds his place. Sadly, this leaves Dean alone and the brothers grow apart. With a tough case to crack, can Dean help catch the creature before someone close to him is killed?
1. Chapter 1

**New story! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. Only the plot line and my own made up characters belong to me. I'd mention how much I'd _like _for Sam and Dean to belong to me, but that's pretty overdone. Everyone says it. **

**So, this is Wee!chesters. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17. I know Sam seems a little young for a ninth grader, but when Dean was still in high school on the show flashbacks, Sam was too, so I went with it. :) I can definitely promise a little hurt Sam in the future... it's how he gets there that hopefully will keep you reading!**

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><p><strong><span>Flawed and Perfect<span>**

_Water. That was the only thing that crossed his mind, but crossing his parched lips was Dean's name. How could this happen? "Dean..."_

_Sam tugged helplessly at the rope around his wrist. His face was bloody, but the crimson trail past his nose was dried and cracked because it had been about 24 hours since he'd last been beaten._

_That was a complete guess, though, as Sam had no concept of time. "Dean!" He called, his voice cracking. At first there was no response._

_Sam jumped when someone pounded furiously on the door. "Quiet! Or your brother and I'll come in and teach you another lesson!"_

_"No, sir." Sam whimpered. Water, he thought. Just need some water._

_"What did you say?"_

_"No... Dad." Sam forced himself to say._

_"That's right." Not so good of a dad when there aren't witnesses._

_"Dean!" Sam cried again. The door crashed open and he was yanked up by the hair._

_Sam sniffled and hung limply as the hot breath closed in on his ear. "Ya need to listen to yer father, boy." He welcomed the black retreat when a flurry of punches knocked him out cold and he fell to the cold stone floor._

_"Disgusting." His older brother spat, staring at the drip of blood forming on the floor from Sam's nose. "That weakling's no brother of mine." He kicked Sam's nose with a sickening crunch for good measure._

**THREE WEEKS EARLIER**

Dean burst through the door panting, taking a seat on the bed with a cold bottle of water. With a sigh, he downed half the bottle in one chug.

He took a look around the small room the three of them were sharing. Dean was glad Dad had solved this case so quickly. It meant one less night in a crammed motel room stuck in the middle of the latest feud between John and Sam.

It seemed like lately Sam and Dad were growing more and more apart. The fights were more Jerry Springer show-worthy by the day, and Dean really wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

"Dean? Sam? Is that you?" John called from the bathroom. Dean could hear the shower turn off.

"Uh, yeah, Dad." He didn't have the heart to tell him Sam had lagged behind a little.

John stepped out of the claustrophobic bathroom with wet hair. "Where's Sam?" Dean hesitated to answer.

Suddenly, Sam stumbled into the room, his shirt damp with sweat and his face red from the long run.

"Sam." John began, staring disappointedly at his youngest. "I thought you were running with Dean."

Sam talked between gasps of air. "I was- a little- behind." Dean handed him water and he took it gratefully.

"And if I told you to run in the middle of a hunt would you still be 'a little behind?'"

"Wh- no! Not on purpose!"

"Well you can just run an extra mile tomorrow. Then you'll never have to worry about lagging behind."

"But we're leaving tomorrow morning at five thirty!" Sam protested angrily.

"Then you better get up early." With that, the conversation was over and final. John pushed past Dean, muttering about the bar and grabbing his jacket and keys. Sam flinched as the door slammed closed loudly.

"I can't believe you left me behind like that!" Sam erupted.

"_Me_?" Dean questioned. "Come on, I saw a crippled turtle pass you!"

"That's not fair! You knew I was sore from yesterday!"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know." He had to admit, Dad had been working Sam really hard lately. Ever since the thirteen-year-old had reached the point where he thought academics came before hunting and training, which in this family meant that he was the troubled teen that didn't focus on the important things in life, John had been trying to break him out of the cycle or something.

Dean let it go, blaming Sam's emotions on teen hormones and the strain John had been putting on him. "Go take a hot shower, Sammy, it'll help with the soreness."

Sam smiled and despite Dean's persistence that he didn't need warm water, the younger brother made sure there was plenty for Dean to rejuvenate after his run, too.

The shower was refreshing, but Dean was still exhausted, retiring to his bed early. The glow of Sam's laptop illuminated the room like a nightlight as the typing away of the keys for the English essay he wouldn't even get a chance to turn in lulled him to sleep...

Dean jolted awake, and at first he couldn't place why. Then he realized Dad was back. Sam looked up from his essay, the pencil he had been chewing still in his mouth when he saw John's shadow pass the curtained window. He quickly closed his laptop and bolted for the bed. He'd only just dived under the covers when the lock turned and the hunter made himself known, staggering into the motel room and slamming the door carelessly behind himself.

On any other night Dean would be accusing his father of drinking irresponsibly considering he had two sons at home. Not to mention, how devastate they would all be if he crashed the car while drunk.

But tonight Dean's mind was on other things, the kind of things the older hunter would never notice, because he didn't know Sam's mannerisms like his son did. Dean knew what Sam chewing his pencil meant just as much as when Sam shoved his head under his pillow or tapped his foot hyperly. It meant he was upset, maybe even a little hurt, and that was something Dean couldn't deal with.

**...**

It had seemed like only a few minutes since John's arrival when the father was shaking him awake, before light had even thought of announcing itself through the cracks in the windows.

"'m up! 'm up!" Dean protested, flinging his covers back. "Sam back yet?" John shook his head.

"Oh."

Dean got dressed and ready hurriedly, packing his minuscule collection of personal items into his bag.

Five minutes until the preset leaving time, Sam shuffled in, his eyes barely open.

"Sam!" Dean called, hurrying over to his brother. Sam seemed okay, but his arms were covered in scratches. "What happened?"

Sam sat down on the bed. "I wasn't paying attention. All the sudden there was a car coming and I had to dive into the ditch."

Dean shook his head and chuckled. "Only you, Sam." Sam was peeling off his sweaty shirt and walking towards the bathroom when John poked his head in the door.

"We're ready. Sam, good, you're back. Let's go guys." Sam stared longingly at the shower as Dean threw him a clean shirt.

"Looks like you'll have to shower later." Sam nodded and slung his duffel lazily over his back, following Dean to the Impala.

John had the front seat piled with Bobby's stuff he needed to return, so, grumbling, Dean joined his little brother in the backseat.

John had barely turned the key when Sam fell asleep soundly, knees curled up to his chest in the tight space. He wasn't uncomfortable though. For Sam and Dean, there was no safer place to let their insecurities go for a while than their car.

Even though he had been teasing Sam about them sitting in the backseat together, he didn't move when Sam snuggled close to him, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. John looked back at them in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with his oldest. Dean smiled awkwardly and turned back as Sam made himself more comfortable in his brother's arms.

**...**

Dean's eyes opened slowly and he yawned, taking in his surroundings. His arm was aching, sore from keeping Sam's weight on it in the same position for so long. He looked out the window for a sign of where they are.

"You missed the Maine sign." John spoke up from the front seat. "Only four more hours." Dean sighed. Only? The car lurched as the hunter turned off into a rest stop. John parked the car and took the key out, telling Dean he was going to the bathroom. Dean nodded and gently pulled his arm out from under his sleeping brother, opening the car door.

Sam adjusted himself and groaned. He stretched and Dean ducked back in. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey." Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Where're we?"

"Maine, finally. Four hours 'till Brownville." Dean looked up and saw John returning. "Look alive, Sam. And-" Dean hesitated. "Please, don't start something today. You know, it's Mom and Dad's anniversary." Sam grimaced.

"Yeah, I know. I-" Sam stopped talking when their father walked up.

"Dean? Your turn to drive." The perks of being seventeen? He's been driving for two years, now. But unfortunately that also meant taking turns during long car rides.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as John transferred Bobby's things to the trunk. He went to argue about why he hadn't done that sooner but decided against it. Dean settled behind the wheel and soon they were on the road.

**...**

"Here we are: Brownsville, Maine." Dean sat up in the passenger seat and looked out the window. He'd only lasted a couple hours driving until John forced him to hand over the wheel. Now, they were passing Brownville High, and John pointed it out.

"You boys are going there starting tomorrow." He stated. Dean rolled his eyes. He was a senior this year, and honestly he wasn't learning anything, so he didn't understand why he still had to go. This was Sam's first year in high school, though. He was young and still small, not fit for high school as far as Dean was concerned. Too smart for it.

Sam's small voice piped up from the backseat. "Don't roll your eyes, Dean. School's good for you."

Dean laughed. "Ha! Sammy, we're hunters! Hunters don't need to know who the fifteenth president is or- or- what Harper Lee was thinking when she wrote To Kill A Raven-"

"Mockingbird."

"Mockingbird, whatever. Still-" Dean glanced over and his father was glaring at him. He gave a slight disapproving shake of his head and Dean stopped. "Not today, son." He said so only Dean could hear. He looked up at the picture of Mary sitting on the dashboard and his oldest followed his gaze.

"Sorry, Dad." John raised his eyebrows. "I mean, sorry Sam." Sam nodded.

"It's okay, Dean." Sam put his hand gently on Dean's arm. "I understand." He shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes and sat back in his seat. Soon, they had chosen a motel and John was sitting his boys down to explain the case.

"There's not much to go on." The hunter began, taking out a load of documents and pictures. "A Mr. Yates was murdered in his home alone on Monday. The doors were locked and there was no sign of forced entry." He handed a picture to Dean, who kept it out of Sam's view. He looked disgusted and handed it quickly back to John.

"Why is he..."

"Dismembered?" John finished. "I think our killer has a very crude sense of humor." Sam snuck a look at the picture. The man's arms and legs had been ripped of carelessly, the bones sticking out and blood everywhere. Judging by his terrified face, he had died screaming. Sam looked away. There had been something else in the man's eyes Sam just couldn't place. Not just terror, but... confusion?

"...early. Sam? Sam, are you listening?" Sam jumped and looked up. "I said the man's son is in ninth grade. I'd like for you to get to know him."

"Yes, sir."

"And you two need to get to bed. I know tomorrow's already Tuesday, but school starts at seven fifteen."

"Yessir." The two obeyed in unison.

"See you boys tomorrow morning." John stood up and gathered his things.

"I thought it was best for all if we got two rooms this time." He muttered to Dean when Sam went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Dean nodded and gave a slight, grateful smile. He didn't want to deal with a single fight tonight.

**...**

John dropped them off outside the main building around seven. The brothers entered the building to a hall full of students talking and laughing. Sam looked up and saw most of them stop to stare at the strangers as they walked in.

"The principal's office is down the hall." Dean pointed, looking at the map Sam had printed off their website last night. Sam took a deep breath as they walked by the watching students.

"Names?" The receptionist asked when the walked through the doors marked M. Shepherd- Principal.

"Dean Winchester. And this is my brother Sam."

The woman pursed her lips and pushed her glasses higher on her nose as she checked. "Oh, yes. Your father called two days ago... Here are your schedules..." The printer whirred to life and both boys were handed a small sheet of paper.

"When's your lunch?" Dean muttered as they left.

"12:30. You?"

Dean looked disappointed. "11:30." He looked down at his worried brother. "Don't worry, Sammy." They both jumped as the bell rang shrilly and the halls became three times as crowded. Dean shouted a last word of advice but Sam didn't hear him as he was swept away by the crowd.

**...**

It wasn't until final period- Geometry- when Sam first got a glimpse of Mr. Yates' son.

"Warner."

"Present!"

"Winchester."

"H-here."

"Yates."

There was that awkward silence in a classroom when the teacher doesn't get an answer during roll call.

"Yates?"

Someone nudged the person across from them and a muscled boy looked up from his doodling.

"Here!" He bellowed. The teacher shook his head and finished the last couple names on the list.

When he was through, the man slowly closed the folder. The board behind him had Mr. Bonowski scrawled in sloppy Capitol letters. He was young, with messy brown hair and a pleasant smile.

"Before we begin, I'd like to introduce our new student, Mr. Winchester. Sam, welcome to seventh period Geometry." Sam nodded politely as the class turned in their chairs to goggle at him.

"I assume you all opened your books to the page I wrote on the board?" Sam looked around him at all the open textbooks and frantically turned to page 394.

"Well, you can close them." The class groaned and slammed their books shut. A few rolled their eyes.

"Maybe you would better understand this theorem in a more... teenage oriented way." On cue, a women from the front office brought in pizza boxes and the class exploded into cheers and excited giggles.

"But!" Mr. Bonowski raised his voice to gather the attention if his noisy students. "You must correctly identify the measures of each angle on your slice before eating." Sam smiled. He already learned this at his last school. He couldn't help it when a piece of pepperoni was slapped on his plate and his stomach growled greedily.

**...**

Dean had been waiting anxiously outside the front door for his brother for five minutes after the bell rang, tapping his foot against the step.

"Sam!" He pushed his weight off the wall when he saw his brother's familiar shape. "We have to walk back." He put his arm around his brother as they turned the corner, but Sam still didn't make eye contact. "How was school?"

"Good." Sam mumbled.

"Okay... So, classes all good?"

"Yes." He muttered. Dean frowned. "Regular chatty Kathy, huh? What about the Yates kid? Meet up with him?"

"Yes."

"And?" These one word answers were really starting to annoy Dean.

"After school. Said I was sorry about his Dad's death." Sam shuffled his feet as he walked. "He got defensive. And..."

Dean stopped and Sam followed suit, both boys standing expectantly on the worn sidewalk. "And then this happened." Sam finally looked up and Dean gasped.

"Sam..."

Sam's left eye was puffy and red, soon to be black, and swollen badly to where he could barely open his eye. His lip was split, and Sam looked back down ashamedly as they continued.

"How come, Dean?" Sam whispered as they continued. "How come we have to be hunters? Can't I just- just be normal?" This was old news to Dean, a question asked time and time again. His answer was the same as always.

"Because there's no one else stupid enough to do it."

Sam nodded as if in understanding, but the truth was, he didn't get it at all. Dad said they were brave, that this was meant for them, that they had to. But couldn't he have been a normal widow and let Mom's death be a freak accident? It was things like that that domino affected their entire lives.

Sam knew one of the only good things that had come out of hunting was their fighting skills. He hadn't expected Yates' son, Shane, to attack him, and caught of guard, he was easily defeated. But years of fighting Dean, who was taller and stronger, he learned to use his speed and agility to his advantage.

There was no doubt in Sam's mind that Shane was the bully of the school, and he vowed to himself that he would get even with the kid. Sam was sick of getting picked on- by Dean or anyone else for that matter- and Shane beating him up had been the last straw.

He could still hear Shane's taunts, still taste the blood in his mouth. His hand clenched into a fist as he walked. Shane was finally going to understand what it felt like to be on the recieving end.

**...**

Dean handed him a bag of ice and Sam flopped back onto the bed. "Thanks." He said from behind his hand. Dean nodded and sat down next to him.

"Did anyone see it happen?" Dean asked worriedly.

"No. Except for his own friends."

"No teachers?" Sam shook his head. He opened his mouth to continue when there was a solid knock on the door.

Dean put a hand up. "Stay here." He quietly grabbed his knife and crept over to the door. "It's Dad," He said, unlocking the door for his father. Sam stood up, prepared to begin explaining, but with one look at his father, his jaw dropped.

John Winchester was dripping with blood.

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><p><strong>I know, slow chapter. Sorry. I promise it picks up. If you liked it, don't hesitate to review! And any criticism or mistakes in the plot line are welcome. I'm trying to stick to the facts of the show as much as possible. Thanks! I'll try to post next week (After a NEW episode! *Squeal!*)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites and everything in between! Here's the next chapter! (Excuse all the exclamation points, I'm pumped that Supernatural's back on!) So, I know the first chapter was slow, and this one kinda is too, but there's some mystery, a little violence, a new character, so I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong><span>Flawed and Perfect<span>**

****"Dad!" Dean's eyes darted frantically around his bloodied father for a gaping wound but there seemed to be none. Sam jumped up and dropped his ice pack. "Are you oka-"

"It's not mine. The blood." John finally spoke up. "Her name is- _was_- Amanda."

"Amanda?" Sam questioned. John stared at the floor as he spoke.

"She was your age, Sammy. Found her outside the school when I was looking around. Limbs ripped off, Sicilian smile, horrible. She was... still alive."

"Did you call the cops?" Dean asked, closing the door and guiding John to the bed.

"Anonymously. It must be connected to the school. First Yates, a janitor, then a student? You talk to Yates' kid?"

He looked up as he spoke, his voice trailing off when he got a look at his son's face.

"Yes." Sam stated monotonously. "He punched me."

"Well, talk to him again tomorrow."

"Dad, he's a bully!"

"And you know how to fight! He's crucial to the case, Sam. Try again tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Sam mumbled obediantly.

"Good," John muttered, and he stood up to shower. "You boys be careful tomorrow."

"Of course Dad." Dean said immediately. Sam didn't answer.

"Good. I'm going to go wash up. When I'm done, we train." Sam sighed as he stood up and removed the ice pack.

"It's looking a little better." Dean said quietly, touching the edge of Sam's eye gently. It was already turning black, but the swelling had gone down. This was the worst Sam'd had in a while. And by a bully, nonetheless.

Before Dean knew it, John had cleaned up, changed, and motioned them outside, where the sun was just beginning to lower into the horizon. "We're focusing on hand-to-hand fighting." He explained as he led them to a grassy area behind the motel.

Dean and Sam spent the next couple hours beating each other up, to put it simply. John gave them tips and taught them new techniques, and at one point, Sam even managed to sweep Dean off his feet. Both boys looked just as surprised as Dean stumbled back to his feet.

Sam smiled and laughed in surprise, only to receive a light kick to the chest, sending him backwards. "Jerk." He stuck his tongue out.

Dean held his hand out to pull his brother back up. "Bitch." He smiled.

They stayed out until the sky turned orange and darkness loomed around the corner.

**...**

"That's all for today, class. You all did mostly okay on the test, though I can't say everyone did." Mr. Bonowski eyed Dean as he spoke. "Dean? I'd like to speak to you after class." He added sternly. Dean looked away and rolled his eyes. Bonowski was alway trying to have friendly relationships with his students. As far as he was concerned, they were not on a first name basis.

"...you listening? Dean?" Dean's head snapped up. "I asked you a question." He looked annoyedly at the senior. Dean turned to the other students, all eyeballing him.

The girl he'd hit on before class mouthed something to him. "Thirty-five." She whispered.

"Thirty-five!" Dean repeated, sending a grateful, yet handsome smile her way.

"Thank you for trying to help, Marissa-" Marissa flipped her blonde hair back and smirked at Dean. "But my question was what class do you have next?"

"Oh..." He blushed. Dean had never been more embarrassed. Actually, he'd never really been embarrassed in public. "Economics."

The class was so awkwardly quiet he could hear the giggles of Marissa and her friends behind him.

**...**

Sam was alone. As always. He walked to class alone, ate lunch alone, and spent class alone. Which is why meeting Daniel in the principal's office had been a blessing in disguise.

He'd been there because he was in a fight, though it was a little one sided.

He'd been at lunch, eating at a small table in the corner, when Shane walked in. "He's crucial to the case." John echoed in his head. Sam scraped the last of the pudding onto his spoon and stood up.

He acted like he was simply moving to throw his tray away when he reached Shane. "E-excuse me." He began. Shane stood up to his full height, towering over the small boy missing the growth spurt he needs so much.

"What, Samantha?"

Sam brushed off the insult. "Just- I really meant it yesterday. About your dad. I'm so sorry."

Shane just snickered. "How's your eye?" Sam frowned.

"Look, twig, I don't want to hear any more from you about my dad. In fact," He stepped closer, inches from Sam's face. "I don't want to hear another peep from you."

Was this kid really trying to boss him around? "You don't intimidate me." Sam squeaked, or so it seemed. The entire lunchroom was silently watching the entertainment. Only new kids were stupid enough to test Shane Yates.

The room was breathlessly awaiting Shane's response, conveniently vacant of teachers and staff. Shane was fuming, and he flipped Sam's tray upwards into his face. Sam yelped as he was covered in tomato soup and his spoon clattered to the tile.

Shane pushed him to the ground and kicked him in the side before emptying his water bottle on Sam's head. One more kick for good measure sent Sam gasping for breath in a spell of dizziness.

"I said I didn't want to hear a peep." Sam couldn't respond, and instead curled in on himself as the cafeteria burst into laughter.

**...**

The shrill ring of the bell jolted the bored seniors of Mr. Bonowski's class. "Dean?" Bonowski beckoned. Dean sighed and grabbed his books as he walked up to the desk.

Mr. Bonowski waited for the other kids to leave before motioning for Dean to take a seat.

"Look," He began. "I'm not usually this upfront with students but I believe it's the only way to get through to you, Dean."

Dean frowned inquisitively.

"I just mean- I've noticed the cuts and bruises. On you and your brother. I saw him in the hallway today. Don't think I didn't notice the black eye."

Dean opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by an announcement over the intercom. "Dean Winchester to the office please." Bonowski gave him a disapproving look as if he'd already done something wrong.

"You better go." He stated, but Dean was already standing up. "And don't think this is over!" He added.

**...**

"And you can just have a seat outside while I talk to Mr. Yates here." Principal Shephard pointed to a set of three chairs in the waiting room, one of which was occupied by a pale, pouting boy.

Sam left a chair between himself and the sad freshman as he sat down. The kid looked up in confusion. "What happened to you?" He asked abruptly.

"Shane Yates."

The boy nodded understandingly, his glasses almost falling off in the process. "First year, huh? I went to middle school with 'im. Learned my lesson first week of sixth grade."

Sam smiled shyly. Finally, someone he could relate to. "Yeah, my dad asked me to get to know him, and I really did try, but..."

"You can't 'get to know' a kid like Shane Yates." Sam agreed.

"My dad can be... pushy. He yells sometimes, but I guess that just happens with all parents at some time."

"Same here. My mom left my dad, but we don't know where she went. Took my sister with her, too. Vanessa. She was terrific, really was. Best little sis one could ever ask for. What about your parents- they fight?"

Sam looked up and answered blankly, "My mom's dead."

There was an awkward silence, like any time Sam repeated that phrase.

"Oh, sorry, man. Really. Why do I get into such personal conversations with strangers all the time?" This happened a lot?

Sam shook his head. "It's ok. I was six months old. And my brother looks after me. He alway does."

The boy smiled. "I'm sorry, I never told you my name. It's Daniel. Math camp graduate, straight A student, forever alone." He held out his hand and Sam took it in his own.

"Sam." He said. "Sam Winchester."

**...**

Dean rushed through the throngs of kids watching him make his way to the prinicpals office. "Excuse me." He repeated again and again until he squeezed through a last small group to stand yet again in front of the secretary.

"Name?" She asked in a high pitched voice. Dean thought it kind of sounded like she pinched her nose as she talked.

"Winchester."

She leaned closer and squinted suspiciously. "Which one?"

"Dean?"

"You question yourself?"

"No! I'm Dean Winchester!"

"Good." She nodded and wrote something on the paper in front of her. "Go join your brother."

Dean was even more confused as he wa pointed through another door deeper into the heart of the front office, where he watched his brother and another geek laughing about something.

"Sam!" He quickened his pace and sat in the only remaining seat, between the two freshmen. "What happened?" Sam's hair was slightly wet and his previously tan jacket was a gross red. It looked almost like-

"It's not blood." Sam seemingly read his mind. "I... tried to talk to Shane again." Dean sighed.

"Lotta good that did." The nerd spoke up behind him. Dean turned. "Who are you?"

"Daniel."

"Well, stay out of it Daniel." Daniel stuck his tongue out.

"What are you doing here Dean?"

"They called me." Dean informed. "And perfect timing, too. Mr. Botrowski-"

"Bonowski." Sam corrected.

"-Bonowski. Was trying to talk to me about something. Didn't seem like it was going to be anything good."

All three boys' heads turned when the door to the principal's office opened and a sad Shane walked out, followed by an almost bald man who Sam could only guess was the principal.

"Winchester?" Sam and Dean both stood up. "Sam Winchester." Dean frowned and sat back down. Sam gave him a final, upset look before Principal Shephard closed the door again.

**...**

"So, Sam, what happened in the lunchroom?" Principal Shephard seemed to be pretty straightforward.

"Just a bully." Sam muttered.

"Uh-huh..." Sam read the plaque on the desk, labeling the man as Jerry Shephard.

"Was the, uh," Shephard pointed at Sam's eye. "Black eye from today?"

"No. It's-"

"I see. Yes, David Bonowski did say something about this..."

"No, it's-"

"I understand, Sam. It can be very hard to be under this pain and stress. Don't worry: we'll help you."

"No! Mr. Shephard-" Sam was being ignored as the man chewed his pencil and stared at his computer screen.

"Go, Winchester." He waved his hand and didn't look up. Sam shrugged at the sudden lack of interest until he saw a reflection of the screen in the principal's glasses. It looked like a picture of Amanda, the dead girl.

**...**

"Dean!" Sam burst through the door. "He was super distracted. Something about Amanda."

"Dead Amanda?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed. He sat back down and told his brother about the abrupt ending to what had been quickly becoming a confusing conversation.

"Mr. Bonowski was going to tell me something, too!" Dean exclaimed. "He never got to finish, but it seemed important. Something about your black eye?"

Sam shrugged. "So... You think we just wait out the period in here?" Dean had nothing better to do, but Sam, who was missing History, was upset. Daniel disappeared, but not before slipping a paper into Sam's hand. Sam, not one for keeping secrets, felt for once this was something he should keep to himself, and when Dean looked away he stuffed it in his pants' pocket (His jacket was still wet) to look at later.

It wasn't until five minutes 'till the bell announcing the switch to the next, and last, period of the day that Shephard came out and realized the brothers were still here. "You two?" He seemed to be contemplating whether to punish the youngest for fighting and even question the other, but decided he had more pressing matters on hand. Two deaths in two weeks was going to cause a lot of talk in town.

Instead of catching the last three minutes of sixth period, Sam and Dean lingered in the hall.

"How you doin' Sammy?" Dean blurted.

"Good. The swelling's totally gone and it's not as black around the edges-"

"I mean in school, life, that stuff."

"Oh," Sam thought for a moment. "Okay, I guess." Dean nodded. "Watch out for that Shane kid, okay? Next time I see him I'll hit him so hard his grandchildren bleed."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Unnecessary."

Dean chuckled and put his arm around his brother. "Aw, your all wet!" He complained, pulling his arm back as the bell rang. They walked together as far as the main hallway before heading in different directions- Sam to math and Dean to -.

"Ah, Sam!" Mr. Bonowski called Sam over when he saw him enter the classroom. Sam set his stuff down, praying he wasn't in for the same awkward conversation Dean got a taste of earlier. But Mr. Bonowski was smiling, which must be a good sign.

"It's about your homework assignment. He held up the paper to refresh Sam's memory. "This was really good, Sam. Really. I think you have potential."

"Potential for what?" Sam asked.

"For Mathletes. We have a match in a couple weeks and if you'd like to join or even just try it out I'd be happy for you to come."

Sam smiled. Finally, his hard work pays off. Sam's never been asked to join something before. "I'll think about it." Sam answered calmly, but on the inside, he was jumping for joy. He barely even noticed how wet and miserable he felt, he was so overcome with excitement.

The class went fairly normal considering the entire student body had witnessed him get beat up by Shane Yates. Sam ignored their snickers and glares as much as possible, and he waited until Mr. Bonowski was distracted to open the card from Daniel:

_Sam,_

_You seem like a pretty cool guy. You should try hanging out with me and my friends. If you're interested, meet us outside before school tomorrow by the gym. Come alone._

_-Dan_

Sam closed the note and put it back in his pocket. He didn't see why he shouldn't meet them. Sam had never really had any friends at his schools, he was never there long enough, so if this was his chance to have a real friendship, he was going to take it.

Daniel met up with him as he was walking down the busy hall to where he and Dean had agreed to meet after school.

"So?" He asked, nudging Sam in the arm. "You game?"

"Sure." Sam answered. "Dean and I usually get here around-"

"Oh, Dean?" Daniel seemed to think for a moment as he shook his head, but it was a fake Think, as if he already knew what he planned to say but wanted to draw it out for dramatic effect. "We don't want Dean. He's not like you."

Sam tucked his hair behind his ear nervously. "Oh, well-"

"Look, Sam. Seems to me you're not making many friends. Especially after your display in the cafeteria today. We're all you've got. It's us or Dean, so what's it gonna be?"

They turned the corner and Sam saw Dean waiting casually at the other end. "I dunno..."

Daniel stopped. "Look, Sam." He stated seriously. "Dean's older. He can find his own friends." Sam looked up at his brother, motioning him towards him with an annoyed look on his face.

"...Okay." Sam finally decided, letting out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Daniel clapped him on the back. "Great. From now on, you spend all of your time with us, your friends. Ignore Dean, he's got his own life to live. See ya tomorrow, and Sam?" He nodded at Dean. "Lose the brother."

Sam waved goodbye and walked towards Dean, Daniel's note crumpled in his pocket. He could feel it every step he took, like a nagging reminder that he'd just traded his brother for something he'd never had- friends. Seemed like an understandable trade to him.

**...**

**I hope that was okay. So the teachers have noticed something about the boys, any guesses on what that is? Oh, and I felt bad about the lack of action, (Personally, I like the excitement and hurt!Sam in fanfiction) so... consider this next week's promo:**

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><p><strong><em>Sam flew back and bit his tongue in the process, blood filling his mouth. "You know, for a wimp," Shane snarled, cracking his knuckles. "You're pretty tough." Sam tried to stand up, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit him as he did so.<em>**

**_It was too easy; Sam was already wobbly and it barely took anything for the bully to knock him right back down. The playground was deserted, something Shane easily could have had a part in. As the kid pulled his large fist up for one that would surely knock Sam out, someone dove in and pushed Shane away._**

**_"Dean?" Sam slurred, shading his eyes against the sun. A large figure stood over him, blocking the harsh sunlight like an eclipse. When he spoke, his voice was deep. "Not quite."_**

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, okay. That's really all I have to say this time! Please review if you liked it, I know everyone says this, but they really do keep me writing. I'd like to know what's going right or wrong, or even any questions. thanks! See you next week!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again. Here's the next chapter! Sorry I was late on this one! I could bore you with details of being sick but that wouldn't be fun for anyone... :/ Then I couldn't help myself- there's some hurt Sam and Dean in this one, near the end. I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong><span>Flawed and Perfect<span>**

****"_Faster_! Come _on_!" John yelled. Dean had made it over the obstacle course second try, but Sam was having a little more difficulty.

He sprinted towards the tree for the fifth time, knowing if he only jumped high enough, he could reach the first branch and climb up.

Pistol in one hand, he sprung up and reached out for the fat branch, managing only to scrape it's surface.

"Again!" John called, and Dean looked on hopefully. Sam didn't make eye contact. He figured if he distanced himself from Dean at home, he'd be able to sneak away easier at school tomorrow to meet up with Daniel.

With a gulp and a solid breath, Sam ran again, his foot pushing up at just the right moment to hug the limb with his arms.

Successfully, he swung his leg over and attempted to balance straddled to the tree while he took out his gun.

"Aim..." John instructed, and Sam subconsciously stuck his tongue out in concentration at the target a ways away. He cocked it, and steadied his arm before pulling the trigger.

The shot sent him backwards, and Sam flipped off of the tree and onto the ground, the wind instantly knocked out of him and a sharp pain growing in his arm.

Dean ran forward and Sam shrugged him off as he sat up. "My _arm_..." He said as he caught his breath. Dean looked at it and touched it gently.

"Ow!" Sam held his arm close. His older brother glanced at the target.

"Bulls-eye, Sammy!" Sam stood up with his arm against his chest.

"It's Sam." He corrected bitterly.

"What's taking so long?" John asked impatiently. Sam squinted his eyes through the sun to where his father stood, leaning against one of the tall trees covering the abandoned park they were practicing behind.

"I-I think I hurt my arm!" Sam answered as Dean traipsed back over to Dad. "It might be broken!" He added at the odd shape and swelling.

John waved it off. "Doubt it, son. Next obstacle!" Sam bit back tears as he ran towards the next task at hand.

Only when Sam couldn't crawl under the barbed wire without crying out in pain did John finally agree that it was broken. He saw the arm up close, declaring it clinic-worthy and packing his sons into the car.

Sam got a red cast, with instructions to come back in 6 weeks, but they all knew that wasn't happening. If they ever figured out what this thing was, that is.

The ride to the clinic and back was silent, though the silence seemed forced and tense. "Let's go." John said as they rolled back into the deserted parking lot. "Next obstacle."

Sam's eyes moistened, but Dean whispered an encouraging word as he got out of the Impala.

**...**

Sam and Dean waved at their dad as he drove away before turning to face the school looming ominously over their heads. "Another week," Dean muttered. He began walking towards where he normally sat with Sam before school but the little brother shook his head. "I, uh... Have to do something." He said suspiciously.

Before Dean knew it, Sam had change courses towards the other side of the school so, instead of hanging out with Sam Iike usual, he looked lonely as he sulked on the front steps, pondering where on Earth Sam could have to to before school.

**...**

"Dude! You broke your _arm_!" Daniel seemed impressed, instantly jumping out when Sam turned the corner. At first, he thought his new friend was alone, until a group of kids stepped out.

"How did it happen?" Dan asked excitedly.

Sam was distracted by the others. "Who are _they_?"

"Oh!" The four stepped forward a little more, seemingly a little more trusting than before.

"This is Walter." A scrawny looking boy stepped forward and nodded before stepping back. He seemed Sam's age and wore his shirt tucked into his neat pants.

"Michelle," A dark haired girl looked up and gave a slight smile, and Sam figured she could be pretty if she lost the glasses and the ankle socks.

"Mikey," The third kid stepped up. "Hey." He grunted, flipping his hair and shyly stepping back in line.

"And Steph." The last kid stepped forward and Sam waved politely. "Short for Stephan." The big kid explained. "Not Stephanie."

Sam had known this towering teen for half a minute and he was already intimidated.

**...**

"Dean."

Dean nodded his head to Metallica, unaware of the man standing in front of him.

"Dean!"

This time he yanked his earphones out and looked up. "Mr. Bonowski?" He stood up and followed the motioning teacher through the deserted hallways.

"Have a seat." Dean sat on the edge of his chair as a very serious Mr. Bonowski sat opposite him.

"We have to talk." He began. "The cuts, the bruises," He gestured at Dean's face. "And Sam's broken his arm, I saw. All of it- Dean, there's no reason to let this continue. It's obvious to the entire staff." He layed a gentle, protective hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, we _know_ your father's abusing you."

Dean's mouth dropped open.

**...**

"I'm coming home a little late today." Sam informed his brother as they passed each other in the hall.

"What?"

"Don't worry about it." Sam waved his brother away and joined Daniel and his friends without another look back. Dean shook his head; there was something wrong about that group.

That afternoon, Dean paused for a minute just in case Sam changed his mind, but when he saw the younger boy walk straight towards the back of the school he started down the street.

It wasn't like it used to be, he thought. Sam really was growing up, apparently. Didn't need Big Bro Dean anymore. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he walked, and Dean pulled out his knife as an unsettling feeling rushed over him.

"Hello?" He called, as if whatever was following him would answer. Dean didn't see anything threatening in the bushes on the side of the street, or behind the bright house next to him, so he continued on cautiously.

The bushes rustled as he walked and as he turned the corner the sounds grew closer and were accompanied by a low growl, or was it a laugh? Dean was positive it was what they were hunting- or he was overreacting- but he didn't know what it was. In an anxious and smart decision, Dean sprinted the rest of the way home, only to realize the creature might make a beeline to the next closest food source- the school, and Sam.

**...**

Sam smiled and grabbed his books as he left the classroom. He hoped Dean wasn't worried, or spying for that matter, as he sneaked out of the school.

He was going to have to study hard to be ready for the first tournament at the end of the week. He knew if Dad figured out where he was going after school he'd be a force to reckon with. The man didn't understand Sam's want for a normal life, or staying in one place for a long period of time.

"Seeya, Sam!" Someone called from behind Sam. It was another Mathlete, but Sam couldn't remember his name. Sam waved as the kid turned the corner and suddenly he was overcome by a suspicious feeling, like someone was watching him.

He was halfway to the motel when he heard the squealing of tires and the Impala skidded to a halt in front of the astonished teen, the feeling of an eavesdropper suddenly dissipating. "Get in!" John ordered and Sam flung the door open and jumped in.

"What is it?" He asked, his heart racing.

"The monster." John said. "Dean thought-" He pulled over as an ambulance and a police car whizzed past, their sirens wailing.

"I got a bad feeling about this..." John muttered, completely forgetting his previous statement as he U-turned. Dean glanced back. "Is that Math?" He asked. Sam pulled his books closer protectively but didn't answer.

"Oh! Dad?" Dean remembered his conversation that morning with Mr. Bonowski. He explained the entire situation to John and Sam.

"Well, I guess we need to hurry up and finish this case, then." John pulled up next to where the police had parked, at the school. "Stay here."

John found a police badge and locked his boys in the car. He could worry about this skeptical teacher later.

"Were you doing math?" Dean asked, pointing to the work books Sam'd set at his side.

"It's not just math," Sam spoke after a long silence. "It's Mathletes."

Dean turned around. "You're doing math for fun?" Sam nodded shyly. "I-it's Mathletes. After school."

Dean nodded and reminded himself that that was Sam's choice, no matter how dorky it was.

Sam relaxed slightly when Dean accepted that his brother was a Mathlete. "Mr. Bonowski's in charge. He's nice."

Dean frowned. "Mr. Bonowski? That jerk thinks Dad's abusing us!"

"Well he kinda is!" Sam lifted up his broken arm.

"Don't. Say that." Dean said through gritted teeth. "Dad does everything he can for us!"

"Oh, so that means forcing us to work really hard all the time?"

"That's not what we were talking about. You have to quit Mathletes."

"No! Mathletes is the first time I've fit in!" Sam protested.

"Oh, what are those other kids then?"

"They're my friends!"

Dean shook his head angrily. "Well, your 'friends' are creeps!"

Sam opened his mouth to argue as John opened the car door. Neither had seen him coming and shut up immediately.

"Well, that's one more death that's happened while we were in town." Dean knew more than anything that John hated losing people while they were on the case, just like he could tell just from his father's demeanor that he would go out drinking tonight.

After a few minutes of silence Dean burst out, "Sam joined Mathletes!"

John turned around in surprise. "That's not a good idea." Dean gave Sam one of his I-Told-You-So faces. "See? Mr. Bonowski is a bad idea!"

"I just don't want Sam walking home alone after school every day. That dead kid could have been him."

Sam sat in thought, staring at the workbooks. Underneath them was the team t-shirt he'd bought with his own money.

"I guess I don't have to go to Thursday's meeting." Sam said. John nodded and Dean smiled smugly as they pulled into the parking lot.

"The competition's on Friday." He announced quietly. "During school. You could always come."

...

The next morning, Sam left Dean to go see if Daniel was waiting for him in the usual spot. He wasn't there. Sam instantly got worried. He couldn't return to Dean- they were still fighting. He decided to sit in this little alcove he found. He was pretty sure the chipped door he was leaning against led to the janitor's office but no one came by. Not even Shane. Dan and his posse had been protecting Sam from Shane, who didn't want to pick a fight six against one. Looks like he'd be spending the whole day in fear.

He entered the lunch room nervously that day. Sam stood conflicted as he watched the table where he'd sat with Daniel the last couple days. Funny, Dan's friends looked more intimidating than before. Sam took his tray and made for the bathroom which, luckily, was completely empty.

Sam holed up inside one of the stalls and sat down. This was no way to eat lunch, he thought. No sooner had the thought left his head than the door opened. Sam pulled his feet up, figuring it was probably Shane.

He peeked through the crack. It wasn't- it was Daniel! Sam was about to make himself known when something strange happened. Daniel tore his ear off, followed by the rest of his face.

My god, he's a shifter, Sam thought. Before his eyes, Daniel turned into a teacher. He thought her name was Mrs. Grange, but he didn't have her for a teacher. Sam considered the bright side- it didn't seem like this Shapeshifter cared whether it's doppleganger's were spotted or not.

The second "Mrs. Grange" left, Sam took out his phone and called his dad, who sounded very hung over from a long night at the bar, but proud. "I'd tell you to keep an eye on 'er, but you know that." John told him.

Sam chuckled. "And who knows when she'll change again." He hung up and, forgetting how threatening the school was for him today, exited the bathroom.

Who knew how long Daniel hadn't been Daniel? Sam hated shifters. Dad had hunted one a while back and they were hard to follow, unless you had a camera, of course. Then you could spot their glowing eyes from a mile away.

He should've known Shane would be waiting for him. The second he walked into the courtyard a fist came flying towards him. Sam was sent backwards but this time he was fed up. Jaw clenched, he stood up and punched Shane in the nose. Hard. "You're no bully." He spat. "Your just a loser, and its a shame really. Shane the Shame." Shane's face turned purple and he shoved Sam.

Sam flew back and bit his tongue in the process, blood filling his mouth. "You know, for a wimp," Shane snarled, cracking his knuckles. "You're pretty tough." Sam tried to stand up, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit him as he did so.

It was too easy; Sam was already wobbly and it barely took anything for the bully to knock him right back down. The playground was deserted, something Shane easily could have had a part in. As the kid pulled his large fist up for one that would surely knock Sam out, someone dove in and pushed Shane away.

"Dean?" Sam slurred, shading his eyes against the sun. A large figure stood over him, blocking the harsh sunlight like an eclipse. When he spoke, his voice was deep. "Not quite."

"Steph?" A large hand helped him to his feet.

"Yep."

Shane took one look at Steph and ran. "You know the other's don't like you." Steph said.

"Oh."

"And neither do I."

"Oh."

"But you've got potential."

**...**

Sam looked around the room nervously from behind the curtain. It was Friday, and all the students who wanted to had been invited to come to the gymnasium to watch the Mathletes. A total of three.

Luckily, parents came too, making the room seem a little less empty. John hadn't come. He said he's almost tracked down the Shapeshifter and that he'd be working on it all day and night. Dean didn't show either, but that wasn't a surprise. They never really made up.

The last few days had been rocky, with almost no contact between Sam and Dean, and no new information on the shifter. This had put them all in a bad mood, so he understood how his father could be too busy to come. Sam didn't want to say it, but it was floating in the back of his mind. Maye John just didn't want to come.

"Let's get ready to _soooollve_ some _probleeeems_!" The announcer began, microphone in hand and actually surprised by the large turnout.

Sam looked up as the curtain opened. He was wearing his shirt, a square root symbol with the words WE'VE GOT 99 PROBLEMS BUT WE CAN SOLVE 'EM ALL!

He couldn't hide his shock to glance at the chairs and watch Dean settle down in the back row. They made eye contact, and Sam cocked his head questioningly. So Dean had shown up. Apparently Sam wasn't the only one who wanted this fight to be over.

Dean glanced to the right, frowned in confusion, and stood up. He held a finger up to Sam and mouthed "Be right back."

Mr. Bonowski said something about their school, the mic's high-pitched squeaking a deafening accompaniment, but Sam was too busy watching Dean talk to someone from the hallway. Shadows covered the man's face, but his brother seemed confused.

"Sam? Your answer?" Sam snapped his head back up. Wow, he'd zoned out long enough to miss a question.

"W-would you repeat the question, please?" Sam blushed. His first problem and he missed it.

"When finding the perpendicular bisector between two-"

"Nooo!" A shot rang out and the contestants and the audience all screamed. Dean staggered back and Sam cried out, bolting towards his brother. "_Dean_!"

"Stay where you are!" Sam froze, but more from shock than fright. Dean stared painfully at Sam, blood seeping through his fingers, as John walked into the light, smoking gun in hand.

"Everyone stays where they are. Except for my son." He took the last bullets out of his gun and stuck them in his pocket. Dean glared at him from the floor as he set his empty gun down calmly. "See, he's been a bad boy. I told him to say back and work, but oh, no. He had to patch things up with little Sammy by coming to this train wreck."

He kicked Dean in the crotch and yanked him to his feet. The teen gasped in pain and hung limply. Those who weren't petrified with fear yelled or cried as he pulled out a knife. "Nobody moves!" He screamed insanely. "Or you're next." Sam felt a caring arm on his shoulder and looked up to see Mr. Bonowsk standing beside him. He stepped forward.

"Don't you touch that boy!" He shouted, holding up his fists defensively.

"No!"

Sam ran after his teacher. "D-don't do it, sir!" John yanked Dean up by the hair until he was breathing heavily and he had his son's neck exposed. He held the blade dangerously close.

"Don't come any closer!" Sam felt his switchblade in his back pocket. Shapeshifters could be killed easily. The tricky part to them was actually finding the sons of bitches. Sam'd found his, well, most likely, but whether real John Winchester or not, this person- or thing- had tried to kill Dean, so it must die.

"Back up!" His voice cracked as he held up the small knife and took a step forwards. John reacted quickly, throwing Dean backwards and grabbing Sam around the neck.

He's going to choke me! Sam thought. Oh, god, he's going to choke me.

He saw a bloody Dean come barelling towards him just as he fell to his knees, his father's strong hands still wrapped tightly around his small neck.

He's going to choke me! He's going to...

Sam's vision blurred as his need for air became more desperate.

He's going to... He's going...

Dean pulled his father off of him and punched him in the jaw. Sam's eyes drooped.

He's... He... H...

Sam's thoughts turned to one solid H that sounded much like a long sigh as his eyes closed, the oxygen he needed refusing to enter, even after the threat had been removed.

The last thing he saw as the blackness of his vision rolled in was his father's hands around his brother's head, throwing it at the ground with such force that blood sprayed, it's metallic taste landing lightly on Sam's bluish lips.

* * *

><p><strong>So? That will definitely continue into next week's, with a... bit of a surprise :) Did you like it? If so, please review, and follow my other story, Of Brothers and Bloody Messes. It's far bloodier, but I must say, by next week there might not be such a large difference between the two! I'll update this weekend! Thanks for reading!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! Guess what? I'm finally uploading another chapter! I know, you're shocked. Anyway, the story is picking up, with some Hurt Sam and Dean. :)**

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><p><strong>Flawed and Perfect<strong>

The screaming sounded more muffled when he was unconscious, but Sam opened his eyes anyway, suddenly aware of the deafening screams and shouts.

He sat up slowly, his cast arm aching miserably and his neck bruised and sore.

"Dean!" He said, but it was no use. The room was too loud and his voice barely made any sound. Instead, Sam crawled towards his knocked out brother, not worrying about where his dad, or the shifter- Sam wasn't sure, might be.

He set a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook him. When he took his hand away, it was covered in blood. He'd forgotten! Dad had shot Dean, too. Sam's eyes wetted despite his attempt to keep his emotions under the surface.

Suddenly, hands were grabbing him, pulling him off of his brother and onto a stretcher. "No!" Sam screamed, and the paramedic told him not to talk.

"_Dean_!" Sam cried, as his older brother was loaded limply onto a separate gurney. "De-ean!"

"It's okay," The nurse comforted. "Your father can't hurt you anymore." But her attempt to make him feel better only made Sam more excited. He began hyperventilating, repeating Dean's name over and over again.

Sam was exhausted. Every time he picked his head up in hopes of catching a glimpse of his brother, someone pushed his head back down. "No! _No_!" Sam cried. "_Dean_! Dean. Dean. Dean. DEAN!"

"Alright, we're going to have to sedate this one." Sam heard. At the mention of drugs, Sam began breathing faster, but as a needle pricked his arm it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes closed sleepily and his head lolled to to the side.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, a sudden recognition of flashing lights jolting him awake. There were ambulances and police cars, but the thing that worried Dean the most was the sight of Sam in a stretcher beside an ambulance, out cold.

_He's not dead, they would've put something over his face. He's not dead, Dean. Don't think like that._

But that seemed to be all the thinking Dean could handle. He felt himself being lifted onto an ambulance as his vision got fuzzy and everything returned to blackness.

**...**

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded young and desperate when he realized where he was- a hospital. He shuddered at the thought. "Dean?"

"You're awake." A young man entered the room, a clipboard in his hands. "I'm sorry we had to knock you out, but you were a little frantic."

"Well, yeah! My brother was hurt! _Shot_!"

The man smiled helpfully. "Don't worry, that man won't hurt you or your brother anymore."

Sam's eyes widened. "You arrested him?"

"No, actually, he passed away."

Sam didn't know whether to be devastated or excited. "How?"

"If you must know, a knife through the chest. Silver, strangely."

It must've been the shifter, but it was gone now. He sighed in relief and the man heard him. "Yes, everything's fine."

"And Dean?"

"In pain, but he'll live."

Sam sat back and let out a puff of air. "Good." As long as Dean was okay.

**...**

"And you know what hospital they're at?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yes, daddy." He mocked.

"Good." John clapped his old friend on the shoulder. "Make sure they're doing okay. I'm sure my boys are fine but..."

"You need proof."

"Yes! Proof. And because I can't show my face-"

"It's up to me."

"Exactly!" John smiled as Bobby collected his things. "So, when you get there, you'll call?"

Bobby nodded. "'Course I will, not incompetent, am I?"

**...**

Sam woke up to a strange man in a business suit sitting on his bed and staring at him.

"Can I help you?" He asked slowly.

"You're Sam?"

"Yes."

"And you are getting released today?"

"I think s-"

"Nah-Uh-Uh!" The man held up a finger. "Only Yes or No. Now, you are getting released today?"

"Yes."

"And you are thirteen?"

"Yes."

"Terrific!" He smiled, showing a full set of pearly white teeth. "I'm Tom, but you can call me Mr. Herald. I'll be your Child Protection Agency officer."

Sam's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Child Protection Agency officer. It means-"

"I know what it means!" Sam argued. "But- why do I need one?"

"Well, you're being moved to an adoption agency."

"What about Dean?" Sam asked, still in awe.

"Oh, he'll come too, just not until he's all better." Mr. Herald slapped his knees and stood up. "Now, let's get you out of here, huh?"

**...**

Sam sat quietly in the passenger's seat, his eyes wet as he looked out the window.

Dad would figure this out, Sam thought. Even if he couldn't be seen near me until we were far away from this place, he'll figure it out like he always does.

Sam hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye to Dean, forced to live with the promise that they'll meet up soon.

The side of the van he was in stated SUNNY SIDE UP ADOPTION CENTER. He hoped he escaped sooner than later. The ones with the nice names were always the worst.

The only adoption center Sam had ever seen was when he watched Annie in third grade. The building was large, brick, and loomed over him with an wert sense of foreboding.

"Go ahead in," Mr. Herald ushered him in the front door. Sam stopped right inside the door frame as a couple children raced past him, screaming and laughing. Mr. Herald saw his worried expression. "Don't worry," He comforted. "We'll find you a new family as fast as possible."

Sam forced a smile as he was guided into a small, claustrophobic bedroom.

**...**

Bobby walked up to the front desk confidently, glad to smuggle his boys out of this horrid place.

"Hi," He began to the smiling receptionist. "I'm here to visit Dean Winchester and-"

"I'm so sorry, visitor hours are over for today, but you can come back tomorrow at ten-thirty." She looked genuinely sorry for him as he nodded and thanked her.

Bobby found himself a motel room and set up for the night. He decided to make a call to John.

"Hey, John."

"How are they?" John answered. Bobby forgot about how he'd promised to call when he saw them.

"It's too late to see 'em today, but I'm sure they'll be fine."

John sighed on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, you're probably right."

**...**

"I'm here to see Dean Winchester?" As Dean was in a more critical position, Bobby'd pay him a visit first.

He was led to a medium-sized room with two beds, though the only occupied one held Dean. He looked so fragile, black eye deeply contrasting his pale face, and he woke up moments after Bobby arrived.

"Hey, Bobby." He said gruffly. A bandage wrapped around his shoulder where he'd been shot. He waited until the two of them were alone. "It was the shifter, right?"

Bobby nodded. "Your daddy killed 'im right then and there. Then he had to take off."

Dean sat upright and winced in the process. "How bad is it?" Bobby asked.

"Not the worst. Minor concussion, shot to the shoulder, nothing I can't handle." He smiled painfully. "But they won't let me see Sam until I'm better. I don't get out for a couple more days." He looked expectantly at Bobby. "You did come to get us out of here?"

"'course, idgit!" He exclaimed. "I came today to scope the place out." Dean nodded as the nurse came back in with medicine. "ASAP, Bobby." The hunter nodded seriously as he left back into the main hall. Dean pretended he was fine, that stupid kid, but Bobby knew better. He just wouldn't rest until he knew Sam was okay, too.

**...**

"Sam Winchester?"

"I'm sorry, he's been moved."

"Moved? Where?"

"The adoption center on Hillview Street." Bobby was speechless. He wrote down the address and practically ran to his truck. He would say he's their uncle, that he wants to adopt, and he'd get Sam.

"I'm here for a specific child." Bobby described when he found the front desk. "I'd like to adopt him. Sam Winchester?"

The nice lady looked up and back at the screen. "Oh, I'm sorry." She attempted a sympathetic smile. "He was adopted. Yesterday."

* * *

><p><strong>Dun dun dun... Okay, so yeah, you can't get adopted <em>that<em> fast... but for the sake of the story, please overlook it. Thanks! As always, I appreciate any reviews :) I'll try to update faster next week! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! Next chapter! :) So, the average adoption does NOT take days. Like, ever. But seriously, did you not think I was going somewhere with this? ;)**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Flawed and Perfect<span>**

****"He was _what_?" Bobby clutched the table for support. "Th-that can't be possible, that takes forever!"

The woman shrugged. "Don't ask me, ask my boss."

Damn right I will, Bobby thought.

**ONE DAY AGO**

"Is my brother coming yet?" Sam asked for the hundredth time.

"I'm sorry, he's still recuperating." The woman ruffled his hair and gave him a sympathetic look. She could care less, Sam thought.

This place was miserable. Bad food, bad conditions, and children so bad Sam wasn't surprised if their parents had committed suicide. He could handle himself, though, and quickly learned the ways, like how to eavesdrop on conversations, as the office was one thin wall away from his room.

It wasn't much later when the big event occurred. "Come _on_!" A man's voice yelled angrily from the receptionist's office. Everyone in Bedroom C, including Sam, jumped as the bang of the man's fist against the desk seemed to shake the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It's not like that!" The secretary squeaked. The children pressed themselves against the wall to listen in. "It takes time to adopt-"

She stopped abruptly, and the room was filled with silence. Suddenly, she spoke again, her voice eerily calm and collected, unlike the nervous shrill of before. "Alright, sir, one moment." Sam heard heels clicking and followed suit as the children race to their beds just in the nick of time.

The door opened, flooding the dark room with yellow light. "Samuel Winchester?" She announced, and Sam sat up slowly in anticipation. "You've been adopted! Come meet your new family!"

Sam changed into the clothes he'd been wearing when he arrived and gathered up the few possessions he still had. Kids shot him sorry looks as he walked by. Apparently, they'd put two and two together, as well. Whoever that man was, it was bad news for Sam.

Two people stood in the waiting room as the receptionist brought him out. "Enjoy..." She whispered, and Sam didn't know what to think.

"I'm Jonah." The man said, extending his hand. Sam took it. "Sam."

"This is my son, Mark." He gestured toward a nice looking boy beside him, who must be around Dean's age.

"Pleasure," He stated.

"Please, sir, I have a brother." Sam said, giving the man his best puppy dog eyes. "I can't leave without him-" Jonah whipped around from his paperwork and grabbed Sam's wrist strongly. "Sorry, son, but we only have room for one little brother for Mark, here." He gave Sam a dazzling smile, a creepy feeling hidden under the pleasant, turned up corners.

Sam walked stiffly towards their pickup truck, listening to a long speech from Jonah about the importance of family. "You do as we say, and no one gets hurt," He explained gruffly as he lit a cigarette. He flicked ashes off out the open window. "No one gets hurt." He repeated subconsciously.

Sam scanned his surroundings as Jonah pulled into a small place down a long dirt road. As the dust settled, he got his first look.

Basically, it was a dump. The wooden structure creaked as if it could fall over any minute. Behind the house, Sam could just make out a shack, which he hoped to god wasn't an outhouse.

"Home, sweet home." Jonah mumbled, getting out and impatiently beckoning Sam. He jumped down and followed the two inside. "Your bedroom's down here," Mark pointed down the stairwell. Sam nodded and walked down, the squeal of the wood behind him indicating Mark was following.

"To the right," Mark said when they reached the bottom. At the end of the hall was an old door, which Sam opened cautiously. "It's just a closet." He turned to Mark just in time to see a foot flying at his chest. Sam flew backwards into the closet, the wind knocked out of him. His head snapped back into the shelves behind him and his eyes rolled back. Mark smiled as Sam fell unconscious to the floor.

"That's taken care of." He said to himself. For just a moment, his eyes flicked pitch black, a sign of his true identity. "Got 'im, Pa!" He yelled, locking the door and running excitedly up the stairs.

**PRESENT**

Bobby didn't manage to meet with a single supervisor or boss. They were all "too busy" or "in a meeting." The receptionist had seemed touchy about the whole thing, but Bobby was too worried to notice.

He called John first. "John? It's Bobby." He began when John's voicemail sounded. "Look... We gotta work out a new plan. Call me when you get this, it's urgent."

He flipped his phone closed and left reluctantly, dreading sharing the news with Dean.

**...**

Sam opened his eyes slowly, painfully aware of the throbbing in the back of his head. He reached his hand up and it came back tacky with blood. It was pitch black in the dark closet, but Sam was more worried about what was happening outside the closet than in the darkness surrounding him.

Sam almost laughed out loud at his captors' stupidity. They hadn't even tied up his hands, but at least they'd thought of locking the door.

Sam listened for anyone else nearby, but heard nothing. Sam got to work quickly. He first checked his pocket, not surprised to find that his cell phone was gone. He began rummaging through the clothes and other miscellaneous things that had been shoved into the small space over time.

He was just bending a hanger into a suitable lock-picking tool when the door swung open without warning.

Jonah held a beer bottle in one hand and a baseball bat tucked under his armpit. "Follow me and don' say a thing." Sam cautiously walked out of the closet. Mark stepped in behind him so he was sandwiched between the two men while they crossed the hall.

The dank room held only one chair, a rickety collection of wood Sam would barely call furniture. "Sit." Jonah ordered. Sam sat.

Mark came up and roughly tied his hands together. He crouched down in front if Sam and bent to tie his ankles as well. "All good." He said, staring coldly into Sam's face. Sam spit, watching proudly as Mark wiped the saliva off, a look of disgust on his face. "Bitch!" He cried, punching Sam and making his head whip back.

"That's enough for now, Mark." Jonah admonished carelessly. "He's gotta get the rules first."

Sam gritted his teeth as he basked in the moment's reprieve from the abuse.

"Rule Number 1," Jonah began. "You must always refer to us as your brother and father." Sam just glared at the man.

"Rule Number 2: If you scream out, I will gag you."

"Rule Number 3: It seems you've got a bit of an attitude so if you try anything, and I mean anything, we'll, Uh," He slapped the baseball bat against the palm of his hand. "We'll deal with it quickly."

Sam gulped and nodded. "What was that?" Jonah yelled.

"Y-yes... Father." Sam whispered, barely audible. Tears threatened, teetering dangerously close to the edge of his stinging eyes. The words felt traitorous on his cracked and bloody lips. After all the quarrels between him and his real dad- not this lunatic- Sam was still sentimental towards John.

"That's better." Jonah- Father, Sam corrected himself- smiled maliciously. He ushered Mark out of the basement, the dead bolt locking loudly on the opposite side. Sam let out a huff of air. He needed an escape plan. Who knew if Dean was even okay, let alone looking for him? Besides, there was something wrong about this father and son duo that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

**...**

Dean's eyes were still glazed over from the pain meds and drowsy with sleep when Bobby shook him awake with the news.

Dean took a moment to grasp the information. "Not possible." He murmured. "Can't happen like this, right?" Bobby shrugged.

"Didn't think so, either, but while I try to figure out where they've taken him, I'll work on gaining custody of you."

Dean chuckled. "No. You've got to get me out of here. Sam's probably in trouble."

"No, he's probably with some old couple who's giving him presents and cake like a spoiled idgit. Don't you worry and I'll figure it out." Bobby squeezed Dean's shoulder and whispered in his ear as the nurse came in.

"Your daddy wants a word with you. He'll call tonight and say he's with the adoption agency or something. Whatever it is, answer." The nurse began unwrapping Dean's bullet wound as Bobby left.

Through the open door, Bobby could hear Dean cussing as she cleaned the wound. Sure, Dean was always snippy and short with some people, but this was worse than usual. This was how he acted when he was worried or upset, trying to hide it like a big boy. John taught those kids too well.

He needed to do whatever it took to adopt Dean and find Sam, but he'd need help. The adoption agency Sam had been sent to had already seen him and John was pretty much grounded, even if everyone thought he was dead, he was still all over the news.

**...**

Sam grunted as he attempted to slide his wrists out of the rope. The gag in his mouth choked him, not to mention how dirty it must be. Dean used to tease him about how freaked out he could get about germs. That was years ago, but he had to admit- this rag smelled like blood and urine.

He had almost gotten the rope slipped over his cast when he heard movement on the steps. The deadbolt was unlocked and Sam sat still as Jonah- ...Father...- came down the stairs.

"Alright, let's go." He said gruffly, yanking the arm and ankle ropes off. Sam pulled his gag down, suspicious. He was surprised when the man pulled it completely off.

"Act natural, okay? If you say a single word that is not pleasant and cheerful..." Sam nodded.

He was yanked up the stairs, and as he acknowledged the man standing in the living room, he felt the mouth of a gun stick up against his back.

"Hello, Sam, I've just come to see how everything is going!" The man was wearing a nice, three-piece suit, a folder of information tucked under his arm.

"It's all going well, yes?"

"Oh, yes." Sam replied. "Just _swell_.

The gun pushed threateningly into his back, as if as a warning. Don't be sarcastic.

"Won't you sit down?" Jonah suggested.

"Oh, I really mustn't." The man answered graciously. "I'm just supposed to check in and see how everything's going." Mark smiled and shook his hand.

"Well it was a pleasure to meet you. An absolute pleasure!" The man smiled an waved at Sam. "Glad you like your new family!"

Jon- Father prodded him towards the door. "Wave." He hissed. Sam did as he was told and when the man looked back Sam took a chance and mouthed, "Help." He tilted his head in confusion.

"Help." Sam mouthed again. He put his hand up to his ear. "What?" He yelled back.

"What did you do?" Jonah growled. Sam ignored him and mustered all his courage, ignoring the gun in his back.

"_HELP_!" He screamed.

"That's it." Jonah said. He pulled the trigger and the shot sounded, the crack of the revolver ringing out.

Mark grinned from behind his dad, his eyes black and malicious. "Serves him right."

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><p><strong>So Sam's in some BIG trouble, but at least Bobby's working on it, right? Until next week, review if you liked it (or if you didn't!) and I'll try to update by next Tuesday. We'll have a new Supernatural by then!<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**So... this is the final chapter... Sadface? Anyway, thanks to everyone who read this story, reviewed it, and everything in between.**

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><p><strong><strong>**Flawed and Perfect**

****Sam tensed in preparation for the shooting pain that would mark the end of his life, but it didn't come. Instead, he watched the man in the suit tumble to the floor and lay there twitching before finally laying still, the bullet wound surprisingly clean.

"Get back in the house." Jonah ordered through gritted teeth. He shoved Sam into the house, his finger pointing threateningly as he handed his gun to Mark and ordered him to collect the body.

Mark shut the door behind himself, plunging the room into the darkness of the growing night and leaving Sam and Jonah alone.

Jonah pushed Sam in the chest, causing the thirteen year old to stumble into the chair behind him. The man towered above him. "Don't. You. Dare. Do that again."

Sam's eyes widened when Jonah's turned pitch black. "I _mean_ it." He growled.

**...**

Dean couldn't do it. He couldn't sit here "recuperating" while Sam was being given a new life.

He waited until the hospital was fairly quiet that night before making his escape.

Dean changed into normal clothes and peered around the doorway, whipping back into his room just in time as a nurse walked briskly past.

Dean didn't waste any time, hurrying down the hallway silently and stealthily. It wasn't until he reached the street corner ten minutes later, out of breath and tired, that he realized he had no idea where he was going. The only thing lighting the streets were the lamps lining the roads and the occasional car driving by.

Digging through the pockets of his jeans, he found a few bucks, probably just enough to get a room at a really cheap motel for the night.

He walked the streets on the lookout for a vacancy, lowering his standards every block that passed with no luck. Finally, he settled on a sketchy looking place far away from where he began and paid for the night, settling down on the creaky, hard bed. Wherever Sam was, he'd find him in the morning.

Little did Dean know, as he was sitting there on the rickety and filthy mattress, Sam was on a very similar bed, with one major difference, as he was cruelly handcuffed to the bedpost, his hands splayed out above him.

And little did he know that Sam didn't just have cruel new family members. He had demons.

**...**

Dean leaned back and dialed the agency's number, flipping the phone book shut.

"Hello, I'm calling for Samuel Winchester's new address." The receptionist seemed to not trust him.

"Yeah, just ask Mr... Smithson." Dean said confidently.

"No, no. Hey! Do you want me to contact your supervisor? 'Cause I'll hit ya with a four dash seventeen."

Dean sighed. "Thank you!" He jotted down the number. "45... 15... Savry Lane... Alright, thanks." He shut his phone off and folded up the sheet of paper, repeating the number in his head. "4515 Savry Lane. 4515 Savry Lane." He muttered.

He caught a bus this time, his money was running out quickly, and he made it within a few blocks of Sam's "place of residence" before he disembarked, unfolding the paper and walking down the sidewalk until he stopped at a lonely stretch of road where, if it wasn't marked Savry Lane, he never would've noticed.

The road turned to dust shortly, blowing in his eyes and mouth and nose, and Dean sighed in relief when he reached 4515. The place looked like a condemned building, and Dean checked the address twice in hopes that this wasn't Sam's home after all, to no avail.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He rang the doorbell, not surprised that it didn't work either. Finally, out of options and worried, he tried the doorknob.

"Hello?" He called nervously. Straight out of a horror movie, like someone was really going to answer. Dean saw the shotgun leaning against the wall an his heart began beating wildly. Picking it up, Dean continued room to room.

"Dean?" The voice was soft and quiet and scared and completely Sam, and it sounded like it came from the closet. "Sammy?"

Dean flung open the door and smiled as his baby brother leapt into his arms, suffocating him in a giant, shaky hug. "They were so mean, Dean. So mean."

"Were?" Dean asked. Sam pointed across the hall. A scruffy man was sprawled out on the ground, a knife sticking gruesomely out of his chest. Beside him was a younger boy around Dean's age, throat slit horribly and bloodily.

"Sam... Did _you_?"

Sam held up his hands, dried blood caked on his palms. "They were going to hurt me, Dean."

His chin quivered and Dean pulled him back in. "It's okay, Sammy. It'll all be okay."

Sam sniffed and nodded, when he suddenly reeled back and tugged the knife out of Jonah's neck with a sickening sucking sound.

With a scream of triumph Sam wielded his weapon and charged at Dean, who hesitated at the sight of his own brother attacking him.

Dean twisted out of the way as Sam's deadly blow just missed him, returning with a gentle push to the side and stumbled to his feet. Sam grinned maniacally, the knife dripping his surrogate father's blood. His eyes flicked back, and Dean finally got a look at what he was dealing with. "Exorcizamus te!" He yelled. Sam growled and pushed him to the wall, as Dean let our a grunt.

"Omnis immundus spiritus," Sam punched him in the jaw, and Dean returned it with his own hook, causing his brother to fall back.

"Sorry, Sammy." He muttered as he caught his bearings. "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversari!" Sam swung at him with the knife, but Dean ducked, running backwards but tripping over one of the bodies. He fell, his back covered in the boy's blood. "Omnis legio..." He groaned, his side splitting in pain. "Omnis conregato... et secta... diabolica..." He groaned, panting.

"Ergo, draco maledicte."

"NO!" Sam snarled. He grabbed the shotgun abandoned a few feet away.

"Ecclesiam! Tuam! Securi tibi facias!" Sam cocked the gun, aiming at Dean's chest with a smug look on hid face.

"Libertate servire, te rogamus," Dean grunted in pain as Sam's finger tightened on the trigger. Instead of pointing at Dean, though, he aimed the muzzle under his own chin. "Fight it! Sam, fight it!" Dean cried desperately. If he finished the exorcism the demon might decide to just off Sam, but it might also be his only chance to save his little brother. Dean decided to risk it.

"Audi nos!" Sam dropped the gun and opened his mouth in a silent scream as the black mass left his body. Sam crumpled to the ground and Dean crawled over, our of breath but smiling.

He held his brother in his arms, fearing it was too late. "Sam? S-s-Sammy?" Sam's eyelids fluttered open and he groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"Dean? 's really you?"

"Yeah," Dean laughed, helping his dizzy brother into a sitting position. "First possession. Congrats, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, a sign he was back to normal, minus the black eyes and bruises and cuts along his body.

"Dean?"

"Anything, Sam."

He held his cast arm out, revealing the large crack down the side. "This cast isn't very effective."

"Yeah, when we get you back to Dad and leave the state we'll getcha looked at."

"What's our excuse?" Sam asked. As much as he said he hated lying, he was pretty good, and seemed to get excited at the prospect.

"You, Uh, fell. While skateboarding."

"Okay," Sam said.

Dean pointed at the bruises from Jonah decorating Sam's face. "You must've really landed on the pavement hard."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah." He decided. "I like Dad's roads more than theirs." He gestured at Jonah and Mark.

"Me too." Dean ruffled Sam's long hair as he stood up, using his hands to help himself.

"Dad's roads are like... a brand new street." Sam muses as Dean helps him to his feet. "At first you're like, 'Why the hell is this street here?' but then one day you're late and you need a shortcut and you're like, 'I'm really glad this road's here.'"

Dean laughed and shook his head. "You must've been hit pretty hard."

Sam shook his head. "No, just hard enough for the questions to go away." Because Sam trusted John a little more than he had a few weeks ago, but it didn't call for Thanksgiving to make him see sense. Oh no, 'cause in the Winchester family, everything's taught differently, even the lessons. Maybe that's why they sink in so well and stay lodged in their heads forever. John used some pretty durable asphalt for his roads.

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><p><strong>Fin! Thanks to anyone and everyone that read this story! I appreciate it! Please check out my other current story, Of Brothers and Bloody Messes. (Hurt!Sam, seeing a trend, here?) I had fun writing this story! Thanks guys!<strong>


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